


Once A Ranger

by TaraSoleil



Category: Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, Power Rangers, Power Rangers Turbo, Power Rangers Zeo
Genre: Adult angst, Clones, Evil Rangers, F/M, Fishy Footsoldiers, Friendship, Gen, Gun Ho, Love, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-14 05:45:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8000761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraSoleil/pseuds/TaraSoleil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when you have to fight the Power to keep the Power? </p><p>Twenty years after putting their spandex behind them, the Power Rangers reunite to fight a new and dangerous threat, the Rangers of Aquitar. Old wounds re-open and old enemies become allies when friends turn foe, and the Power Rangers must overcome their own issues to become heroes again.</p><p>Co-written with BlueWolf1995 over at Fanfiction.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Proglogue

The Jeep’s tires sang on the asphalt as she drove. Night was coming on fast, and she wanted to be at her new apartment before darkness set in. Still, she couldn’t keep herself turning off the freeway into the scenic overlook. Years ago, when she had lived here all her short life, she couldn’t understand why people stood in awe this far above the city. Now, after so long away, she knew what they saw in it. The miles of interconnecting streets lit up like Christmas, a brilliant spider’s web of humanity stretching out through the valley.

Angel Grove.

How long had she been away? How many years had it been since she last set foot there?

Too many, according to her mother.

Too few, said the ache in her chest.

The engine purred patiently as she sat, letting memories blow through her mind as the Santa Ana winds did her blonde hair. Her slim fingers curled around the chill metal hanging from the rear view mirror, remembering the last time it had sounded a call. It had been silent for as long as she had been away and was little more than a replacement for the lucky rabbit’s foot that had grown politically incorrect around the time she reached junior high. Her hand dropped from the blue and silver talisman, and her eyes returned to the road.

 A rueful smile pulled at her mouth as she shifted gears. “Let’s do this.”


	2. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a party is crashed.

The fish taco sat before her untouched. She had a love-hate relationship with fish, one heavy on the hate.  Across the table, the man dressed primarily in black shoveled nachos and chili into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in months. At least he used a napkin rather than wiping his fingers on his slacks.

“Do you eat like this in front of your students, Mr. Oliver?”

Tommy grinned around a mouthful of nachos but had the courtesy to swallow before replying. “Don’t eat in front of them.”

“When do you eat lunch?” she questioned. “Come to think of it, _where_ do you eat lunch?” Kate ‘KC’ Carter, newly hired science teacher at Angel Grove High, had spent her first week eating lunch in the cafeteria when her homeroom students ate their lunch. She hadn’t seen Tommy. Nearly every other teacher, but not him. She couldn’t blame him for not dining with his students. The cafeteria was noisy, crowded and stunk like the least appetizing combination of overcooked broccoli, sweat socks and hormones anyone could imagine, but it was also like coming home. That had been her school, her lunchroom. It had been where Billy—

“Standing at my desk between third and fourth period,” Tommy replied, thankfully cutting into her memories before they did any damage.

“You could sit with me in the lunchroom, you know,” KC informed him.

“Aw, I can sit at the cool table?” he smirked and offered her shoulder a playful punch, no real force behind it. “Thanks, but my lunch break is dedicated to tutoring the kids who can’t make it to morning tutorial sessions and have to work or babysit their siblings after school.”

“Look at you go, still saving the world,” she grinned.

The longest serving Power Ranger ducked his head as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment or possibly with delayed response to the Sriracha he had poured over his chili cheese nachos. “Yeah, well, I do what I can,” he muttered and cleared his throat. “How was your first week?”

KC shrugged. “I think I’m still in survival mode.”

“As are we all,” he agreed.

“I just feel like I ought to be doing more. So far it’s just been reviewing the safety rules of the lab, reminding them how to behave in a classroom and quizzing them to see how much they’ve managed to forget over the summer,” she sighed and dropped her head to the tabletop with a hard ‘thud’. “I was going to be an astronaut or, at the very least, build a better mouse trap.”

She felt the heavy hand land consolingly on her shoulder. “You can still build that mouse trap you’ve always dreamed of,” Tommy assured her. “Besides, with your knowledge of physics, you can clean house at Skee Ball and Put-Put.”

“I do rock the mini golf course,” she agreed.

“We should totally do that,” he declared, glancing at his watch. “Just not today. Kim’s expecting us for dinner.” He promptly shoved the last of the nachos into his mouth.

“Is there something I should know about your wife’s cooking?” KC questioned, eyes narrowing as the mess disappeared into his distended cheeks.

He looked guiltily down at his plate even as he wiped the last of the cheese off with his finger. “She’s been working her way through the cooking section of the bookstore. I didn’t mind when it was Italian and Chinese, but it’s nothing but French food lately.” His face contorted at the idea of having to eat what passed for haute cuisine in the Oliver household.

KC managed to form a sympathetic face, though the thought of having a live-in chef sounded about as close to heaven as one could achieve without actually dying. “Let’s hope she’s put that on hold for tonight.”

“Doubtful,” the man grumbled and signaled for the check.

The massive figure made his way over, the jovial smile on his face a far cry from the surly scowl he had worn through his excessive number of years in high school. In the time she had been away, Farkas Bulkmeier had shed his leather gloves, metal studs and punk rebellion in favor of civic pride and a keen business savvy. What he lacked in scholastic aptitude, he more than made up for in the ability to hire a clever accountant and sociable staff. He had taken up Ernie’s mantle with gusto, and the Youth Center was as vital and on-trend with the high school students as it had ever been.

“Need that to go?” Bulk questioned.

KC looked down at the taco she hadn’t taken even a single bite of, guilt quickly overtaking her long-standing hatred of anything with fins and a tail. “Yeah, thanks, Bulk.”

In less than two minutes, the taco was wrapped in waxed paper and placed inside a paper bag with the Youth Center’s logo printed proudly in bright colors. It would be going in the trash as soon as she got home, but Bulk didn’t need to know that.

Tommy stood, offering Bulk a handshake before moving toward the door. KC lingered by the table, brown eyes taking the building in as she had not dared when they first walked in. The differences were enough to make her feel comfortable. The décor had changed, some of the fitness equipment had been traded out as trends came and went. One thing hadn’t changed, though. It was still a safe place for high schoolers. Two boys had entered into an impromptu martial arts competition, throwing punches and kicks. She recognized Jason’s style in the taller boy’s form, and he would be proud to know that tall boy offered his hand to help the other fighter off the mats. If the Power ever returned to Angel Grove, she knew which of these boys would be selected as leader of the new team.

“KC! You coming?” Tommy’s voice called to her.

“Yeah!” she shouted and ran to catch up.

The drive from the Youth Center to the house Tommy and Kimberly had bought the previous year should have taken the better part of thirty minutes. With Tommy driving, they made it in fifteen. His time as a Turbo Ranger had apparently left him with an insatiable need for speed. Even a brief stint as an amateur racecar driver – and subsequent crash that left him with a broken leg – hadn’t been enough to slake his inner speed demon.

KC remembered the crash, though she had been across the country when it happened. Tommy had been a rising star in the racing industry. There was talk of a multi-million dollar contract to join a Formula 1 team. Then the crash happened. Some reports claimed it was an accident, others insisted it was deliberate sabotage. No one could prove either supposition to be true, and, regardless of the details, Tommy was left in traction for a month with nothing to entertain himself besides daytime television and books. Kat had written to her, saying how many books Tommy had started reading, how quickly he was digesting the information and amazed that he was starting to talk in scientific jargon. Before the month was out, Tommy was applying to college to study science – paleontology of all things.

A speed-demon scientist. KC shook her head in amusement at the idea.

Her smile dimmed as the tires screeched, and the car skidded to a stop outside the house. Tommy didn’t pull into the driveway. He couldn’t. It was full. Cars were parked in two rows from the street to the garage door. Six in all, plus two more in the street.

“Is there something you failed to mention, Mr. Oliver?” she demanded.

“Uh, yeah, about that. Kim was really excited that you were moving back,” he hedged and seemed to shrink under her hard glare. “She might have told everyone you were coming home. And they might have planned a ‘welcome back’ party.”

KC groaned. “I hate parties.”

“Did I say party? It’s not a party. It’s a dinner. A really good dinner.”

“You said it was French food.”

“Yeah, but there won’t be any fish.”

She considered his words a moment before giving a single, determined nod. “I’m sold.”

“Oh, thank god,” he sighed.

Her arrival at the house was consumed in a blur of hugs, tears and greetings. She hadn’t realized how much she missed everyone she had left behind. At the time, getting away from everyone and everything that had anything to do with _him_ had seemed the only way of keeping herself whole and sane. She had considered the Rangers a cancer and cut them from her life accordingly, but she had been wrong. They weren’t to blame for what happened, for him leaving, for her heart breaking.

“Dinner is served!” Rocky declared with a grand gesture toward the dining room.

“Is it pâté and foie gras?” Tommy asked, face pulled into a grimace.

“No, pizza,” the man replied with a grin. “Pizza a la De Santos.” He stepped aside to make room for the stampede. KC was swept along in the rush, not that she minded. Pizza was possibly one of the greatest of human inventions, and in Rocky’s expert hands it could only get better. He applied and was accepted to the California Culinary Academy and packed his bags for San Francisco a month after KC made her run for the East coast. Years later, the name De Santos was one every foodie in the country knew; there wasn’t a food critic in the world who hadn’t sung his praises – and Rocky had a wall filled with framed reviews to prove it.

His masterpieces this evening included the classics  – ham and pineapple, meatball and mushroom, and margherita  – as well as some variations – salami and spinach, strawberry and balsamic vinegar, and, what quickly became her absolute favorite, shiitake, chanterelle and goat cheese.

“Oh, my god, is it too late to marry you?” KC moaned as she bit into her fifth slice of the two mushroom and goat cheese pizza.

“Yeah, sorry,” Rocky replied with a shrug. “Taken. And gay.”

“How long did it take you to figure that out?” Adam questioned.

“About five minutes in San Francisco.”

“Stop stomping all over my fantasies,” KC whined. “I have the most beautiful image of you cooking me this pizza every night.”

Rocky snorted. “I cook all day. The last thing I want to do is cook at home, too.”

“Destroyer.”

“I live off reheated experiments and Hot Pockets,” he insisted.

“Blasphemy! Make it stop!” she cried and threw herself down into the nearest chest, which happened to be Adam’s.

He ran a comforting hand down her back and gave her head a reassuring pat. “It’s okay. Somewhere, there is a man who will cook for you.”

“Really?”

“I’m sure of it. Not me, obviously. I’ve only managed to fine art of boiling water.”

“Plus, you’re taken,” Tanya prompted.

“Yeah, that, too,” Adam added as if it were a minor detail. “But mainly it’s the inept in the kitchen thing keeping us apart.”

His wife slapped the back of his head, but it was obvious there was no real force or venom behind it. They had all played these games since high school, flirting and pretending and being generally stupid to make up for the weight of responsibility that they had taken up at so young an age. Their classmates had played these games for real, all their happiness dependent on who they dated, but, as Rangers, they all knew better.

KC thought she had been smart enough not to get caught up in that petty game of hearts. She probably had been, but, when you fall, you get broken. And she fell hard.

The doorbell rang, breaking up the silly squabble.

“Did you order pizza?” Rocky questioned, affronted at the very idea that his food wouldn’t be sufficient.

“Relax,” Kimberly ordered. “It’s probably the Home Owner’s Association complaining about the cars.” She stomped to the door, ready to battle the HOA with as much conviction as she had Rita Repulsa and poverty in third world nations. Her voice carried through the hall as she threw the door wide, “Okay, what do you—“

Her voice dried in her throat, making her croak the final word before falling silent.

In the living room, everyone stopped, straining to catch some clue as to who or what made the spitfire Pink Ranger grow quiet so suddenly. Tommy launched himself to his feet and hurried to the door, his own voice barely audible as he muttered, “Holy shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I don't already have enough projects I'm ignoring, I started helping a friend write her PR story. We started this twelve years ago as [Of Past Regrets and Future Fears](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/1537522/1/Of-Past-Regret-and-Future-Fear) over at FFNet, but it quickly grew into a ridiculous monster. Last year, [BlueWolf1995](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/719617/BlueWolf1995?) resurrected it, cut out the most redonk bits and started again. I saw it, rewrote it, and she liked it! So I now have permission to share it here since she hasn't been bothered joining AO3 yet (she'll learn).
> 
> Do let me know what you think!


	3. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an unexpected guest brings unexpected news.

The silence grew heavy. It had been anticipatory, but with Tommy’s quiet declaration it turned fearful. A youth spent fighting wave after wave of evil had left the lingering feeling of doom in all of them. Even KC, who had never worn a Power Coin or commanded a Zord, felt it. Years had passed without incident in Angel Grove, but that only fed the conviction that the darkness was merely hibernating, growing in strength until it leapt from the depths of the earth, huge and unconquerable.

“Oh, honestly,” Kat huffed and pushed herself to her feet, marching to the door. Her voice, still thick with accent despite the years spent in California, carried loud and clear through the hall. “Billy!”

“What?” KC said, ice crystallizing in her gut.

This was not happening. This could _not_ be happening.

He was gone. Gone to another planet. She had moved on. She was happy, _finally_ happy.

The world spun and grew fuzzy around the edges as unconsciousness threatened, but she felt the firm hands on her shoulders, dug her nails into the back of the couch, the upholstery tearing under the strength of her dread. She held on. She was awake when he made his way into the living room flanked by the former Pink Rangers. Billy Cranston.

“Billy,” someone said. It took her a moment to realize that she had been the one who spoke.

He looked good. Damn, why did he have to look good? She had let her imagination run wild since he had left. His hairline had started receding slightly after high school, so she imagined he had gone completely bald by now. He wasn’t. The hairline was the same, giving him a more pronounced widow’s peak that pointed down toward his blue eyes. Worry still put a crease from the corners of his nose to those of his mouth, but it wasn’t the deep, aging scar of a line she imagined. It was enough to make it look as if he had spent a lifetime laughing and thinking, which he had.

He looked good.

How _dare_ he look so good?

Anger flared up in her. He had no right to look that good. For what he did, he deserved to be that bald, scarred, shriveled hunchback she turned him into in her mind. For what he did, he deserved to suffer.

Her hand flew out and slapped him in the face with enough force to make his head snap to the side. When he turned back, he looked apologetic, and his lip was bleeding.

“I think I should make clear relevant details of the situation surrounding my unexpected departure,” the man said, dabbing at the blood with his shirt sleeve. He still wore blue.

“Huh?” more than one person present asked.

“He’s thinks he should explain why he left,” Trini offered.

A collective ‘oh’ ran through the room, and everyone moved to return to their seats, the mood less tense. KC sat, Tommy’s arm protectively around her, his body a real, physical barrier between her and the man who broke her heart. The only one who didn’t sit was Billy. He stood anxiously, a hand gripping his forearm in a nervous habit she had never seen before. She remembered how awkward he was in high school; public speaking was enough to send him running. He stood his ground today.

He cleared his throat. “My departure was not voluntary,” he began. “I would not have chosen to leave.”

“You were kidnapped?” Trini asked.

“By who?” Kat demanded.

“Whom,” Tanya corrected absently. No one paid her any attention.

“The Rangers of Aquitar,” Billy said, which earned more than a few cries of disbelief from the Rangers assembled. “I traveled to Aquitar to assist in resolving their problems, which I did with considerable speed. I had been assured that once the problem was corrected, I would be provided with transportation home. But the next day, a new situation arose that needed my expertise and another and another. It seemed there was no end to their difficulties. It took a year before I realized the reality of my situation.” Again, his hand massaged at this forearm.

“What is that?” KC demanded, launching herself at him before anyone could stop her. She yanked the man’s sleeve up to his elbow, revealing an oblong semi-circle of pink scar tissue. “This is a bite mark.”

Billy sighed, deflated, “Their new foot soldiers – a genetically engineered blend of humanoid and some of earth’s most deadly fish species. This one was a barracuda.”

KC shivered at the thought. She had been scuba diving on a family trip to Puerto Rico, had seen those predatory fish in action. She had seen a row of them lined up on the dock, the haul of a proud fisherman; their teeth long and sharp and terrifying to a child with a phobia of needles. She recognized the seemingly irregular pattern of pin-hole scars on the top of his arm and the line of perfectly spaced scars on the other side.

“They have foot soldiers?” Jason questioned. “Are they planning to attack someone?”

“Yes,” Billy said, his voice soft as if he were speaking only to the woman still cradling his arm in her hands. “Us.”

“’Us’ meaning us,” Adam asked, gesturing to the people gathered in the living room. “Or ‘us’ meaning us.” Here he gestured to the broader world as a whole.

“As near as I was able to determine, their goal is the overthrow of the people of earth.”

“So us,” he said, waving his arms to encompass the world.

“How do you know that?” Kat asked. She had a way of making a question brimming with suspicion sound merely curious. “If they were playing at being friendly with you, surely they wouldn’t have been talking about their plans in front of you.”

“No, but once I realized what they were doing and tried escaping, they ceased their pretense and treated me as the prisoner I was,” Billy said. “I made four failed attempts before I managed to reach the interstellar travel pods.”

“And those things don’t have GPS?” Jason said as if it were an obvious flaw in the man’s plan.

“Even if GPS were the appropriate form of tracking in this situation, it would be irrelevant. This is my home. They know where I’ll go.”

“So, you brought them to our doorstep.”

“They’ve been here before,” Billy reminded him. “We invited them. If anything, my escape and their attempts to find me will work in our favor. Their plans were still being drawn. They weren’t ready for an invasion. Their Piscelons aren’t trained and are too few in number to do any real damage to Earth.”

A hand rose from the couch. “Sorry, but ‘Piscelon’?”

“The genetically engineered foot soldiers,” he explained to Tanya.

“And how many of them are there?” Jason asked, his strategic brain beginning to formulate plans and coordinate counter attacks.

“Forty fully grown with another forty in the hatchery. I rigged it to explode before I left, but I can’t promise it wasn’t disarmed.”

“You tried,” Rocky assured him. “And you gave us a head start.”

“A head start?” Kimberly repeated. “A head start at what? You are a cook! I’m a glorified translater married to a high school teacher! We aren’t Power Rangers anymore! We have no powers, no Zords. Hell, Tommy threw his back out last month trying to move a log from the backyard!”

“Hey, that was a big log,” he insisted, rubbing at the memories of the pain in his back.

“She’s right, though,” Trini said, ever the voice of reason. “Without powers, we can’t defeat Rangers.”

“Wait, are they still Rangers?” Tanya questioned, hope in her voice. “The Power is dependent on the holders being good. If they’re no longer good, then they can’t be Rangers. Right?”

Everyone nodded their agreement and turned hopefully to Billy, who shook his head in a slow, apologetic gesture. “They’re plans to overthrow the planet stem, in their minds, from an intent to help. They talked to me – _at_ me – after my first failed escape attempt. They spoke of the cruelty of humanity, the pain we inflict on one another, the chaos we bring and the order and peace of mind they could bestow. They want to help.”

“By enslaving us?” Kimberly scoffed.

“That isn’t how they see it.”

“This is too much.” The petite brunette threw her hands in the air, the official signal that the gathering was now over.

Billy stood, face drawn and creased in concern, as they walked past him to leave. Engines roared and soon there was no one left but Tommy, Billy and her. Kimberly was off in the kitchen putting away the last of the pizza.

“What are we going to do?” Billy questioned.

“What we always did,” Tommy said, his words coming out with considerable venom. “The right thing.” He offered his long-absent friend with a hard look before disappearing up a flight of stairs.

KC smiled, pulling the talisman from her pocket and pressing the cool metal into his hand. “Once a Ranger, always a Ranger.”

He looked down, a torrent of emotions flooding his face before his features settled on grateful. The blue and silver communicator was the only thing of his she had taken when she left Angel Grove. It had been a reminder of unpleasantness for so long, though it didn’t deserve the stigma she has attached to it. It was a symbol of ingenuity, determination, hope.

All the things they still needed.

“Once a Ranger,” he agreed, his voice soft but brimming with those same three traits symbolized by the communicator he now wore on his wrist.


	4. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Billy shares part of his plan.

The hotel pillows smelled wrong. He was excessively attentiveness of things that were wrong, his mind focusing on them with painful awareness. He had lived as a prisoner for a year, ignored all the little details at his own peril. If only he had just trusted his instincts instead of reasoning those details away, maybe he could have caught on quicker, escaped sooner, done more damage to the Alien Rangers’ operation instead of helping to build up their army.

It was his brain that modified the cloning chambers, the computers and hyperbaric system used to acclimate the Piscelons to Earth’s atmospheric pressure. Project after project he completed, so eager to help, so dedicated to the cause of science.

He sat up in the bed, throwing the pillows across the room. He curled in on himself, guilt making his chest ache, making his thoughts dark. He rarely slept long enough to dream. When he did, he relived the nightmare years he spent prisoner on Aquitar, the cage where they watched him work; the cell where he slept; all deception gone in the end. They hauled him into the hatchery, showed him all the small pieces of their grand design – all the pieces he had fixed for them – assembled into the larger whole, into the nightmare machine that would help annihilate human freedom.

A scream ripped from his throat as he shot up in bed, sheets a tangle around his legs and sweat beading on his forehead.

The room was dark, quiet, safe. He was alone. The enemy wasn’t yet at the gate.

His gasps echoed in his ears as he leaned heavily on the headboard bolted to the wall. His heart rate fell to normal, and he sat in silence. His mind quieted, though the guilt remained. He was to blame. He had to help alleviate the threat.

The long flight back to Earth had given him time to plan. The month spent rebuilding an identity, returning to the normalcy of freedom and tracking down all his friends, had given him time to assess the state of the planet’s defenses. He knew they could fight. He knew they could win. But his entire plan depended on one person trusting him enough to help. All his friends had spent years believing he deserted them, abandoned them for the promise of alien technology and love. Even knowing it was a lie sent to trick them, he wasn’t sure any of them would trust him, least of all the one he needed most.

“Give it time,” he told himself as he felt the anxiety rising again.

He tried to trust in the mantra, but they didn’t have much time. The Aquitians might not decide to wait for the next batch of soldiers to hatch. They might believe their existing force more than a match for Earth. If the struck now, Billy knew they didn’t stand a chance. But if they were patient, chose to wait, he would have time enough to gather what they needed. It was a gamble. But if he had learned anything in the past few years, it was that sometimes the risk was worth the reward.

oOo

He shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other as he considered the door before him.

‘Come back in the morning,’ he had been told.

It was nearing nine o’clock now. He remembered his mother insisting on the Rule of Nine when it came to calling her friends. She never called anyone before nine AM or after nine PM. He would wait just a couple more minutes before knocking. As he paced a short circuit around the doormat, the door swung open.

“Seriously, just come in,” Tommy said, his voice thick with sleep or possibly aggravation.

“I was—“

“Waiting. I know.” It was aggravation, Billy decided as the man turned and trudged deeper into the house.

“I didn’t want to—“

“Disturb us. I know.”

“Should I wait outside?” Billy questioned.

“No,” Tommy said into his mug of coffee. “Kim would kill me if I made you wait outside.”

“But you want to,” he observed.

The man he once considered one of his closest friends sighed, the hard line of his shoulder dropping as he let his true feelings out. “I know it wasn’t your fault. You went to get help and to help them, but what went down after you left…” he sighed again. “It might not have been intentional, but the affects were real. The pain was real. The heartbreak was real. She loved you, and you just left.”

“I was aging at an accelerated rate,” he insisted. “I would have died of old age at nineteen years old! Why would I have subjected her to that if there was a reasonable alternative?”

“And that’s where I want to punch you in the face,” Tommy said, fist forming at his side. “Because you didn’t ask her. You didn’t think that maybe she had a say in whether you left alone or not. She was ready to drop everything and go with you, so you wouldn’t have to go through all that alone. But you were selfish, Billy. You put yourself first.”

His mouth fell open. “I… I didn’t. I didn’t want her to have to see me that way I was. I loved her too much to make her suffer.”

“Whatever you gotta tell yourself, man,” he said, his voice soft and quiet, but it felt like a fist.

He turned, leaving Billy alone to stare at the pristine countertops and professional grade oven. It was so clean and perfect; it felt unreal. Again, it felt wrong, but this time it was him that was wrong, out of place. He had been gone too long. The world had moved on, but he was the same. Had KC? The way she acted last night didn’t give him the impression that she had healed and moved on. The look on her face when she saw him, like she was being broken, like the pain was still fresh. She still loved him. That’s why Tommy was being so overprotective.

Without meaning to, he smiled.

She still loved him.

“Someone looks happy this morning,” Kimberly chirped as she all but twirled into the kitchen.

“I have just reached an undeniable conclusion,” he reported.

“That KC’s still stuck on you?”

“How—?”

“Everyone knows it,” she said and began plucking pans and pots down from the rack hanging above their heads. “Poached eggs and bacon alright with you?”

“Affirmative,” he replied absently, too absorbed in further proof of his hypothesis to much care what she offered.

“Billy, she’s upstairs. Go talk to her.”

He hesitated. “You think that’s a wise course of action?”

“Wise? Who knows? But the right one? Hell, yes. Now go before Tommy tries to physically block your way.” She shooed him toward the stairs with a frying pan as if he were an unwanted pest.

It was easy to find the guest room. The doors to the other rooms were open wide – such a far cry from the doors locked and barred that he had encountered for the past few years. Hers was the only one still closed. He offered the kind of soft knock one gives when hoping the occupant isn’t there or won’t hear, but she did.

“Yeah,” she said through the door, not a yell, but with enough volume that he could hear her through the solid wood.

“Kate.” He opened the door, peering through the gap to see her sitting on the bed. She was dressed as she had been the previous night, her hair still lay straight against her head. He had woken beside her enough times to know that her hair stood in all directions in the morning, which meant her head hadn’t touched the pillow last night. “You didn’t sleep.”

“Too worried to sleep. You know that,” she replied, her voice far away as she continued to stare out the window. It was the kind of beautiful day only Southern California could produce, but he knew that she saw neither blue sky nor swaying palm frond. Her vision was clouded with the darkness to come. It’s what made her such an asset and such a survivor; she planned for the absolute worst eventualities.

“What’s going to happen?”

He shrugged.

“Posit the most probable scenario,” she prompted.

“You want me to guess?”

“Yes.”

“All right,” he sighed and sat down beside her. She didn’t shift away from him, but she also didn’t lean closer. “Two possibilities. Possibility One: The Alien Rangers will strike now before we have time to prepare. The Piscelons will be sent to weaken us before the Rangers themselves finish the job. Possibility Two: The Alien Rangers will wait for their second hatch of Piscelons, which will give us an extra month to prepare our defenses. The Piscelons will be sent, but will be defeated. The Alien Rangers will come.”

“And will also be defeated?” she added hopefully.

“That outcome is heavily dependent on one person.”

“Me?”

He smiled. “If it were only so simple. No, on Tommy.”

The woman beside him blinked her confusion. “You came all this way for Tommy Oliver?”

“No, I came all this way for Earth and all of human kind,” he insisted,” which requires the expertise of _Doctor_ Tommy Oliver.”

“You came all this way for _Tommy_ _Oliver_.” She was on her feet now, her sneakers silently pacing the carpet as she built up speed and anger. “You came—“

“I love you,” he said, blocking her path and gripping her shoulders. “I do. I have loved you from the moment I saw you in AP Biology, and I will continue to love you for as long as I have oxygen in my lungs and blood pumping through my heart. I love you. And I want to save you from being enslaved by people I once thought allies, but to do that, yes, I require the knowledge and skill of Tommy Oliver.”

“Seriously?” she groaned. “I am trying to be mad at you. Why did you have to go and say all that?”

“Because it’s true.”

“God, you’re perfect. I hate you.”

He smiled. “I love you.”

“You suck!”


End file.
